Ugly Love: A Novel(85)

I’m scared to move. His words are terrifying me, but I nod.

“I had a son,” he says quietly, looking down at our hands now laced together. Those four words are delivered with more pain than any four words I’ve ever heard.

I inhale. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, but I remain quiet for him, even though his words just knocked the breath out of me.

“He died six years ago.” His voice is soft and distant, but it’s still his voice.

I can tell those words are some of the hardest he’s ever had to say. It hurts him so much to admit this. I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him I don’t need to hear it if it hurts. I want to wrap my arms around him and rip the sadness from his soul with my bare hands, but instead, I let him finish.

Miles looks back down at our interlocked fingers. “I’m not ready to tell you about him yet. I need to do it at my own pace.”

I nod and squeeze his hands reassuringly.

“I will tell you about him, though. I promise. I also want to tell you about Rachel. I want you to know everything about my past.”

I don’t even know if he’s finished, but I lean forward and press my lips to his. He pulls me against him so tightly and pushes back against my mouth so hard it’s as if he’s telling me he’s sorry without using words.

“Tate,” he whispers against my mouth. I can feel him smiling. “I’m not finished.”

He lifts me and adjusts me next to him on the couch. His thumb circles my shoulder as he looks down at his lap, forming whatever words he’s needing to say to me.

“I was born and raised in a small suburb just outside of San Francisco,” he says, bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. “I’m an only child. I don’t really have any favorite foods, because I like almost everything. I’ve wanted to be a pilot for as long as I can remember. My mother passed away from cancer when I was seventeen. My father has been married for about a year to a woman who works for him. She’s nice, and they’re happy together. I’ve always kind of wanted a dog, but I’ve never had one . . .”

I watch him, mesmerized. I watch his eyes as they roam around my face while he talks. While he tells me all about his childhood and his past and how he met my brother and his relationship with Ian.

His hand finds mine, and he covers it as though he’s becoming my shield. My armor. “The night I met you,” he finally says. “The night you found me in the hallway?” His eyes dart toward his lap, unable to hold contact with mine. “My son would have been six that day.”

I know he said he wants me to listen to him, but right now, I just need to hug him. I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, and he lies back on the couch, pulling me on top of him.

“It took everything I had to try to convince myself that I wasn’t falling for you, Tate. Every single time I was around you, the things I would feel terrified me. I had gone six years thinking I had control of my life and my heart and that nothing could ever hurt me again. But when we were together, there were moments I didn’t care if I ever hurt again, because being with you almost felt worth the potential pain. Every time I began to feel that way, I would just push you farther away out of guilt and fear. I felt like I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve happiness at all, because I’d taken it away from the only two people I had ever loved.”

His arms tighten around me when he feels my shoulders shaking from the tears making their way out of my eyes. His lips meet the top of my head, and he inhales a steady breath as he kisses me, long and hard.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he says with a voice full of remorse. “But I’ll never be able to thank you enough for not giving up on me. You saw something in me that gave you hope in us, and you didn’t give up on that. And Tate? That means more to me than anything anyone’s ever done.”

His hands meet my cheeks, and he lifts me away from his chest so he can see me face-to-face. “It may be a small piece at a time, but my past is yours now. All of it. Anything you want to know, I want to tell you. But only if you promise me I can also have your future.”

The tears cascade down my cheeks, and he wipes them away, even though I don’t need him to. I don’t care that I’m crying, because they aren’t sad tears. Not in the least.

We kiss for so long my mouth starts to hurt as much as my heart. My heart isn’t hurting from pain this time, though. It hurts because it’s never felt this full.

I trace my fingers across the scar on his jaw, knowing he’ll eventually tell me how he got it. I also touch the tender area beneath his eye, relieved that I can finally ask him questions without being scared I’ll upset him.

“What happened to your eye?”

He laughs and lets his head fall back against the couch. “I had to ask Corbin for your address. He gave it to me, but it took a lot of convincing.”

I immediately lean forward and gently kiss his eye. “I can’t believe he hit you.”

“Not the first time,” he admits. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll be the last. I think he’s finally okay with us being together after I agreed to a few of his rules.”

This makes me nervous. “What rules?”

“Well, for one, I’m not allowed to break your heart,” he says. “Second, I’m also not allowed to break your damn heart. And last, I’m not allowed to fucking break your damn heart.”